Little House
"She doesn't look, she doesn't see,
Opens up for nobody,
Figures out, she figures out,"
I walked into my room, slamming the door. It's not like they heard it anyways. The sunlight pouring into my room was murder on my mascara-stained face. I pulled the dark velvet drapes closed, and ran into the bathroom, sinking down on the cold tile floor. I hated this. I always told myself I was a strong girl, that I won't cry. And it wouldn't be long until I broke my promise to myself. I didn't even have to look for the small box lying near me. My fingers fumbled around, the tears blurring my vision once again. I closed around a blade, the sharp corners just barely digging into my palm.
"Narrow lines, she can't decide,
Everything short of suicide,
Never hurts, nearly works,"
A couple years ago, this might've hurt. But I felt nothing except for the emptiness of my heart once I started dragging the blade across my wrist. And then it came. The feeling that I was cutting my pain away. My mouth stretched into a wicked smile. I noticed the little symbols Danny and I had drawn on my arm in study hall, the little ghosts. My heart started aching again. The irony of my situation surprised me. He was my best friend, yet he knew nothing about me. I claimed that we were just friends, but I longed for the day he'd figure out that I wanted much more than that. My mind started screaming as I dug the blade deeper into my skin.
"Something is fighting it's way out,
Something you wanna forget about,
A part of you that'll never show,
You're the only one that'll ever know,"
I try not to self-harm myself, I really do. I'm not supposed to care about what other people think. But lately it's been weighing me down. Life has. But what's the point of telling someone? Might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, "I'm an attention-whore who can't take care of herself!" Right. The last thing I need is another reason for people to peg me down with insults. Usually I tune out Paulina. Her cruel words are like knives lodging themselves into my back. But now days, I can't seem to get her voice out of my head. Every single taunt. Every reminder that I'll never be good enough for anyone.
"Take it back when it all began,
Take your time, would you understand,
What it's all about, what it's all about,"
I can't say I remember exactly when I started. But I remember why. My parents. Danny's might be weird ghost-hunters, but at least they aren't screaming at each other every waking minute. It seems like all I've been doing is keeping people out. So that I have nothing to listen to but my thoughts. I stopped listening a long time ago, to whatever my parents say. Stupid arguments about stupid people. Sometimes I wonder if they even know that they have a daughter. And then there's school. At least I know Paulina is trying to hurt me. So it burns my heart even more when Danny stabs me. I'm just his ghost-fighting sidekick. Maybe someone to occupy his time with. But he'll leave me in a second if something better comes along. "So why do I keep clinging to him?" My voice was barely a whisper, choked out with my sobs.
"Something is scratching it's way out,
Something you wanna forget about,
No one expects you to get up,
All on your own with no one around,"
But the saddest part is, is that nobody cares. That thought always hits home. The fact that if I slipped away right here, lying on the bathroom floor, nobody would bother to put a flower on my grave. Sure, my parents might try to figure out why I died. Where all these blades came from. Danny and Tucker might say something at my funeral. But in a month or two, Amity Park would forget all about Samantha Manson. Mom and Dad would go back to making money. My friends would go back to playing video games, and they wouldn't have to drag a stupid vegetarian to the Nasty Burger. The tears started sliding off my face, mixing into the river of blood trickling down my arm. Stupid Paulina. Stupid parents. Stupid Danny. Why did I have to do such a good job of keeping myself hidden?
"Something is scratching it's way out,
Something you wanna forget about,
No one expects you to get up,
All on your own with no one around,"
I got up and stumbled over to the sink, desperately wanting to collapse and succumb into darkness. But a small part of my brain told me to stay alive, the blood was now flowing from my wrists and dripping onto the ground. I turned the tap on and winced as it hit my arms. The water turned red as it poured into the drain, and I resisted the urge to cry out as it burned my cuts that were trying to scab over. I turned around to go into my room, find a clean towel, and lie on my covers. I walked right into a body, their hands catching mine so I didn't topple over. It took me a second to register that I had bleeding arms, and tried to hold them behind my back. But I could tell from their expression that they'd been standing in my room long enough. Eyes wide, a hand covering their mouth, it was pure horror.
"S-Sam? What are you doing to yourself?"
Author's Note: I was listening to Little House by The Fray a couple nights ago, and had to write this. Amazing song, I highly recommend you listen to it. I'm pretty sure I'll keep this as a one-shot, considering I have no plot ideas and this was purely a way for me to let out my emotions. If I do plan to keep writing this, I won't be able to focus until I finish my other story. It turned out pretty good, so I decided to post it on here. And yes, I put a cliff-hanger because I'm evil. Opinions?